A Year in Drabbles
by DolbyDigital
Summary: A year in the life of Ron Weasley. One drabble per month.
1. January

[134 words]

* * *

The blood under his nose and at the corners of his mouth was beginning to cake, making it difficult to breath and pulling at his skin whenever he tried to talk.

The cold winter air stung at his cuts, and he was beginning to feel a little dizzy; his ribs felt like they were on fire. He sat on the curb of the pavement, dropping his head between his knees.

This job had been alright when he was risking his life out of necessity, but now … now, the work wasn't as vital. They had the Ministry running a lot better, and Harry and Hermione could easily do the rest by themselves.

Now, it was time to figure out what _he_ wanted to do.

He'd hand in his resignation in the morning.

Harry would understand.


	2. February

[119 words]

* * *

Harry would understand. It was just a … minor spill.

Ron had tried mopping it up, but the potion had resisted all the cleaning and scouring charms he could think of, and he wasn't going to risk cleaning it up manually.

At first, it had just seemed to fizz harmlessly, but now it was eroding its way through the wooden desk. He could hear the steady drip as it hit the floor, and he knew that it had been successful in places.

Ron left without a word.

It had been an accident; it wasn't his fault. Who kept something like that on their desk, anyway?

Harry should be more careful. It was his own fault, really. What had he expected?


	3. March

What had he expected? Who in their right mind would let George try new products on them?

Ron stood motionless as George tried hosing him down for the seventh time that afternoon, but still the slime wouldn't budge.

"Well," George said, and Ron came very close to punching him. What right did he have to be that _cheerful_? "At least we know it works." Ron lunged then, but George managed to dodge out of the way in time. The slime on Ron's clothing was drying, making his movements slower; that's what it was.

"To be fair," George said, now a safe distance away from his brother. "You did agree to this."


	4. April

**A/N —** written for HH drabble with the prompt princess.

* * *

"You did agree to this," Hermione reminded him. Ron nodded slowly, looking around the room in shock. He wasn't the tidiest person out there, but this was ridiculous.

All the cushions had been pulled from the sofa, and lots of brightly coloured, loud objects littered the carpet.

"Go play with your nieces." Hermione nudged him in the direction of Victoire and Dominique — and how could two little girls create such a large mess? "You'll be sad when they're gone."

Victoire comes at him, armed with only a tiara and a smile, and said: "We're playing princesses, Uncle Ron."

Ron has never been more terrified.


	5. May

**A/N** — written for Houses [G] drabble with "stop being so dramatic".

And thank you Beks for the help with the last line :)

[150]

* * *

Ron has never been more terrified.

"C'mon," Harry said as he stood from the chair and forced Ron to stop pacing the room. "What're you so scared of?" Ron turned wild eyes on Harry. "Seriously, what's the worst that could happen?"

"I could forget my speech?" Ron asked. "I could lose the ring, or drop it, or trip and accidentally —"

"Stop being so dramatic; if you make a mistake, it won't be the end of the world," Harry said. "She's pretty used to you anyway."

"Maybe this was a bad time?" Ron said, ignoring the slight insult. "Maybe I should wait. Next month? Or her birthday's —"

"Ron," Harry silenced him, "waiting won't change her answer."

Ron stopped pacing. "What if she doesn't like the ring? What if she _hates_ it? Maybe I should trade it for —"

"Ron!" Harry said, reaching the end of his patience. "Just do it!"


	6. June

**A/N** — Written for Houses [g] drabble with the prompt couch.

[118]

* * *

"Just do it!" George practically yelled at his brother. "Drink it in one. It'll taste … it'll be over quicker," he finished with a shrug.

Ron eyed the glass on the coffee table warily and leant further back into the sofa.

"Oh, c'mon!" George picked up the glass and forced it into Ron's hand. "Drink!"

"Why'd we even need to do this?"

"Because my little brother is engaged! We need to get drunk!"

"I really don't think we do," Ron muttered, turning the glass slowly in his hand, watching how the light hit the liquid. It looked so innocuous.

He raised the glass to his lips, tipping it back and —

"Oh, Merlin!" he gasped, coughing and sputtering. "That's foul!"


	7. July

**A/N** — Written for Houses [g] drabble with the prompt [recommending something to someone].

[150]

* * *

"That's foul!" Ron choked, glaring at the thick green liquid. When he tilted the glass, a translucent residue clung to the sides.

"It's good for you," Hermione said, not looking over at him. She was busy in the kitchen, probably making up another, equally as disgusting, concoction that she'd force on him in the name of 'healthy eating'. "Don't you want to take care of your body?"

"If it's mine," Ron muttered, hoping she couldn't hear, "then I should be allowed to do what I want with it." He looked up from his drink, and there she was: framed by the kitchen doorway, the lid of the blender — and Ron still wasn't sure what they needed a _blender_ for when they had magic — in one hand and what Ron had been told was asparagus in the other. He really hoped that wasn't what he'd been drinking.

She narrowed her eyes. "I heard that."


	8. August

[104]

* * *

"I heard that," Ron muttered around a yawn. He's lying prone on the sofa, wrapped up in tracksuit bottoms, a thick hoody, and the duvet from the double bed upstairs, despite the summer heat.

"Heard what?" Hermione asked; she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and ignored Ron ineffectually trying to swat her away. Hermione sighed, letting her fingers run through his sweaty hear. "Honestly, who gets the flu in August?"

"'m fine," Ron said, pulling the duvet up to his chin. "Just tired."

"Of course," Hermione muttered, barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes. "Because this is entirely normal behaviour."


	9. September

[127]

* * *

"Because this is entirely normal behaviour," Hermione snaps, gesturing wildly at their location.

Ron had all but dragged her out of the house, seemingly excited for a visit to the _library_ , of all things. It wasn't even the magical library, but a Muggle one that they'd had to take the bus to get to. Not that Hermione didn't love the library, but she knew Ron hated the place.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, starting at her blankly. She folded her arms across her chest and waited.

Ron coughed nervously, looking at his feet where the toe of his trainer is scuffing up the carpet. "I was supposed to keep you away from the house," he muttered. "Everyone's there. But they're not ready yet."


	10. October

[110]

* * *

"But they're not ready yet," George warned, leading Ron into the workroom at the back of his shop. Ron had been working here for just short of ten months, and he still never knew what to expect when he entered this room.

He would be annoyed, if George's creations weren't usually so interesting.

Ron stared at the counter in confusion; the various halloween decorations looked oddly innocuous, but if working here had taught him anything, it was that looks could easily be deceiving.

"What are they supposed to do?" Ron asked, but shook his head when George's face lit up and he made to respond. "What do they _currently_ do?"


	11. November

[136]

* * *

"Well …"

"Well?" Hermione repeated when Ron doesn't continue the sentence.

"Well," he said slowly, "it's … it's a nice attempt?" She scowled at that, then frowned, staring down at the plate of food.

"Is it that awful?" she asked, worry seeping into her tone.

"It's … it's not _inedible_ ," Ron said, making a visible attempt to swallow his mouthful. "Just a little … lemony?" he finished slowly, making a curious sound half-way between a cough and a sputter.

Hermione frowned again. "I didn't put any lemon in it."

Ron was willing to admit that her attempts at cooking had been getting considerably better, but that wasn't really saying much. But Ron had grown up with Molly Weasley, and he'd picked up the odd technique here and there, reluctant as he was to admit it.

"Can I help you?"


	12. December

[107]

* * *

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked, glancing at Ron's mischievous grin skeptically.

"Nope," Ron said, though he had inched closer and his grin only stretched wider across his face.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a hug, the countdown to New Year sounding on the wireless, and he pulled her over to the open back door, so they could see the fireworks the pub down the road were setting off.

"It's been a long year," he said finally, pressing a kiss to her hair as his grin softened into something almost sweet. "I'm glad I got to spend it with you."


End file.
